People often ask me where you can eat authentic Hungarian food in this city. The very fact that this question is asked suggests that it is not an easy one to answer.

WHAT DO WE CONSIDER TO BE AUTHENTIC HUNGARIAN FOOD, AND WHICH DISHES FALL INTO THIS CATEGORY?

This is a trickier matter, but after a few follow-up questions, it always turns out that these are dishes which have featured on almost every family „menu” at some point – childhood memories of family meals, after-school clubs or school canteens. One thing is certain: these are shared experiences that have shaped several generations, because these dishes – even if they weren’t prepared to a uniform standard, and were often thrown together in a slapdash manner – still had a common flavour that we might call the taste of a carefree childhood.

If we come across something similar in adult life, it may well be that our eyes well up with tears, perhaps without us even knowing why. Our memory of flavours overpowers even the gourmet within us; no matter how many new and different flavours we’ve learnt to appreciate as adults, nothing can override our deeply ingrained sense of taste – we remain its captives forever. It’s like homesickness: we can fool ourselves for a while, but then, as soon as we cross the border, we don’t even need to kiss the ground – the very scent of home fills our nostrils and twists our hearts with a bittersweet longing.

Returning to the question asked, in such situations – out of sheer exasperation and to buy some time – I ask them to list exactly which dishes they have in mind. The dishes most frequently mentioned are: chicken paprikash, cabbage with tomato sauce, homemade chicken soup, palóc soup, goulash soup, Rákóczi cottage cheese cake, Kárpáti fish cake, and other sweet treats such as Gundel pancakes and Somlói sponge cake.

You’d think nothing could be easier than this – after all, we’re in Hungary; these are our dishes, we grew up eating them, so it goes without saying that restaurant owners should always have them on the menu. But when I actually have to name a specific place, it turns out that I wouldn’t recommend it – either because, whilst they might serve paprika chicken, the quality is abysmal, or because none of the other dishes on the list are available at the chosen venue. It may well be that we need more than half a dozen restaurants to find the dishes on our wish list. I won’t mention here those places which, as tourist-trap retro dishes, feature several items from the list whilst taking a rather casual approach to the original recipes.

A widely held, yet seriously mistaken belief is rife throughout the country, namely that

HUNGARIAN DISHES ALMOST COME TOGETHER ON THEIR OWN; IT’S JUST A MATTER OF HEART, and spirit; you simply need to throw the ingredients together as you please, and the dish is ready.

A serious misconception: the classics of Hungarian cuisine are prepared with the precision of French patisserie. We can therefore state unequivocally that this is a profession governed by strict rules. This is the Gundel legacy.

Hungarian workshop

This is a stroke of luck for us, because it finally seems I can give a straightforward answer to the question posed. A workshop, a place, a community has emerged which has finally taken the Gundel traditions seriously and, in that very building where they were born and came to fruition, has created a continuation of them.

Homesickness

For decades, the sons and daughters of our country, scattered far and wide, brought joy to Gundel with their visits: their first journey, wherever they came from, led them here; they came, craving the flavours of home. It was here that the first sigh of relief escaped from their hearts, tormented by homesickness. That lovely little paprika chicken and the Rákóczi cottage cheese dish – however hard they tried in distant lands, they could never replicate them in their own kitchens, because it requires something else, something that exists only at home, only here, in this region, however battered it may be, but it is home. It requires the Liget, the chugging of the trolleybuses, the rustling of the leafy park. The Hungarian language and the cosiness of Gundel. And last but not least, it requires expertise that is not ostentatious but self-evident; that, too, is essential. The time has come for this.

Homesickness as a culinary driving force

How can the experiences gained from a long period away, the ability to adapt demonstrated in the host community, and the life-sustaining power of culinary experiences from one’s youth be put to good use in the kitchen? Viktor Moldován spent fourteen years in Japan of his own volition as a cook, sous-chef and head chef, and possesses the qualities listed above: kitchen experience gained in a leadership role, adaptability, an openness to the world, a clear culinary vision regarding the traditional line of Hungarian cuisine, and sufficient humility in approaching the task, recognising that the aim is not boundless self-realisation, but rather the creation of a well-functioning community in the kitchen, where every moment serves the modern reconstruction of the Gundel culinary world.

András Wolf is a great help in this task; he is, quite literally, the chef’s chef, as he is the head chef at Eventrend, the company that runs the venture. Their meeting was fateful; although they followed different paths, they have both always been committed advocates and practitioners of traditional Hungarian cuisine, whether urban or rural in inspiration. And from now on, they are the custodians of the Gundel legacy, a role that carries great responsibility.

Grand Café

The reopening of Gundel draws on the traditions of Pest’s „grand cafés”. This traditional format – like that of the New York Café – is no coincidence, as it is run by the same operator and represents the most guest-friendly and universally accessible style. Open all day, with cosy décor and a classic café menu complemented by the most popular and well-known dishes of Hungarian cuisine at any time of day. A way of life. Just as the whole of metropolitan coffee-house culture has, for over a century, attracted city-dwellers with the most vivid imaginations as a way of life.

In the café, every social class finds its place; it temporarily erases differences and brings together even those who would not normally mix. It reveals a cross-section of a city’s society. From the urban slum-dweller to the Nobel laureate, everyone finds their place in the coffee house; Hungarian culture, which went on to conquer the world, would scarcely have existed without the coffee house. As a focal point of European urban culture, it attracted artists and thinkers. Some works would never have been created had it not been for the coffee house. Now, the Gundel, returning to its original function, is reviving this grand coffee-house tradition.

As for me, I got a taste of Gundel’s cuisine. I asked if I could pop into the kitchen, as I wanted to familiarise myself with the dishes whilst they were being served. That way, I was also able to witness how the kitchen team copes with plating up dishes with so many ingredients, and just how well-coordinated the team is, so this time I was able to observe events from a slightly more insider’s perspective.

The range on offer

The trout farmed in Tahitótfalu is one of the finest of its kind available today. If I were in the mood for a light, gentle dish that can be enjoyed at any time of day – often referred to as a ‘salad’ – then I would most likely choose something like this. Here we have a slice of fish, carefully marinated (though not overpoweringly so), discreetly smoked, cut into thin strips and tossed in toasted sesame seeds. It’s a sight to behold. Arranged lengthways alongside it – and it’s no coincidence that they’re positioned this way – are paper-thin apple slices, pickled gherkins, homemade mayonnaise that’s tantalisingly tangy, bursting with acidity, horseradish, chervil, dill leaves and pickled mustard seeds – and make no mistake, it can only be cut in such a way that every bite contains all of the listed ingredients. Fresh. Every little detail blends into the final composition, yet each one stands out on its own, playing its part. The conductor is good, I must say.

In Újházi chicken soup, the proper cooking and freshness of the generously portioned vegetables are key factors in how enjoyable the soup is – I could put it in scientific terms, but the truth of this statement is indisputable. No matter how much the chef tells me not to look for Japanese influences in his dishes, I remain convinced that the engineering precision of the individual ingredients, their striking freshness, and the vibrant, equally refreshing role of the additional greens – as well as the use of microgreens – nevertheless remind me of the Asian dishes that feature an abundance of greens. The soup has been matured by the chicken meat, bones and fat cooked within it, and possesses all the depth one could wish for; it is just like a traditional chicken broth from the good old days, as Gundel himself would have approved. It is a particular delight that, just as was the custom in the good old days, the waiter pours the soup straight from a generously flared metal bowl onto a mound of heaped vegetables. The aroma that wafts up at that moment is already half the victory.

Palócleves is a shining star in the firmament of Hungarian cuisine; one of its fundamental challenges is that, beyond the subtle meaty flavour of the lamb-based soup, its most characteristic feature is its just-right acidity. Getting this right is a task requiring at least the skill of a piano tuner. Here, too, the freshness of the carefully selected vegetables is paired with the flavours concentrated in the long-simmered soup; alongside this, the silkiness of the dill and celery oil culminates in a unique harmony of sight and taste. The refreshing vegetable mix – which, I’m convinced, is an essential ingredient in any soup – captures the moment when spring gives way to summer. Anyone who eats this will immediately start speaking with a Palóc accent; that’s for sure.

Dill is a common herb and flavouring in Gundel’s dishes. The traditional ‘Kárpáti-style’ sturgeon dish – which can essentially be prepared with any fine fish – is nowadays more commonly made with pike-perch fillet. Dill is a defining spice of Hungarian cuisine, at least as much as paprika, and in the finest kitchens it wins the contest hands down. Wherever dill makes an appearance, celery is never far behind. These two, one might say, evoke the flavours of traditional Hungarian cuisine. Paprika was introduced later and has added colour and flavour to Hungarian dishes. Dill’s refreshing green vigour and aroma accompany dozens of Hungarian dishes. The firm flesh of the pike-perch fillet is dipped in a Mediterranean-inspired sauce made from a stock of prawn shells and fish stock, as are the lightly seared prawn tails. It is commonly believed that shimeji mushrooms are a Japanese speciality, and in this case it would seem to confirm the notion that the chef couldn’t resist sneaking something characteristic of Japanese cuisine into the dish, but it’s not quite that simple, because this delicate mushroom also grows on beech trees in the northern hemisphere and is native to our region too. And it’s a perfect match for this dish. Our pike-perch, prepared Kárpáti-style, is a well-balanced, creamy and mild dish. It’s a real favourite.

The sauce in the paprika chicken is smooth. An intense paprika flavour comes through behind the sour cream, and the meaty and vegetable aromas of the chicken stock also come through. I’m delighted to see that the chicken thighs and breasts haven’t undergone any modernising alterations; they haven’t been artificially shaped, but are served in their natural state – and, incidentally, this is free-range chicken. The nokedli are hand-torn, plucked from a chopping board and dropped into boiling water, freshly made. Once strained from the water, they’re tossed in butter; they’re almost frothy, with a thin, melt-in-the-mouth texture. These are genuine galuska at their very best, and this is worth emphasising because we tend, out of habit, to accept even hard, days-old galuska that have been revived from the dead. We must put a stop to this; let’s take the flour-to-egg ratio of Gundel’s dumplings as the benchmark. If we don’t want to mess about with new-wave experimental chicken paprikash, then head to Gundel.

Without Rákóczi’s quark cake, I’d feel like something was missing. It looks just like a woman’s powder compact. The essence of the cake is captured in its delicate presentation: quark and meringue, along with vanilla – which is well known for evoking irresistible sensations on the palate.

Gundel ring

But there’s something else here that I reckon has a bright future: the Gundel ring. András Wolf simply cannot deny his true nature, as he is, at heart, a confectioner and baker, as well as a chef. He has devised a sweet treat incorporated into a pastry which, in my view, could easily win over even those who might otherwise hesitate to pop into Gundel. It is made from dough leavened with one per cent yeast, which, after proving, is brushed with a mixture of butter, cardamom and cinnamon, then shaped into rings, fried until crisp and glazed with pistachio sugar syrup.

Everything you need is here; the Gundel legend can begin anew – all the more so because, as usual, I got carried away tasting the food – but the Grand Café experience offers much more than that: an all-day café experience at reasonable prices, including, in addition to the dishes listed, breakfast, afternoon tea and pastries – just as you’d expect from a big-city café – along with live music and that time-honoured Gundel atmosphere. From now on, Gundel isn’t just for snobs, it isn’t just for the rich, it isn’t just for foreigners – it’s for everyone, for all of us, quite literally. You just have to go there – that’s all.